Juneteenth June 19
by cpneb
Summary: Just a little something that stuck in my mind; for those of you who have never heard of Juneteenth and for those who have , I hope you enjoy this diversion. This story takes place one year after the Lowardian invasion, in June well, d’oi ….


_**Juneteenth**_

Disclaimer/Author's Notes: Kim Possible and all the characters of the show are owned by the Disney Company. Original lyrics to the songs referenced in this story and the music are the property of the respective authors, artists and labels. All other characters can be blamed on the author (he, however, is not responsible for all of their actions at all times, being barely responsible for himself most of the time).

This is a strictly not-for-profit, just-for-fun work.

Enjoy! Please read and review.

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**A/N Forward: **

Just a little something that stuck in my mind; for those of you who have never heard of Juneteenth (and for those who have), I hope you enjoy this little diversion.

This story takes place one year after the Lowardian invasion, in June (well, d'oi)….

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Commander Dr. Charles Percival Nebulon (CP) Adams was in _far_ too a good mood to have it spoiled by anyone or anything: even a call from Betty…as long as none of the pigeons or other denizens of the airways decided to bomb him or his guests today.

Instead, the birds continued to sing, merrily, as he smiled, sniffed the air, and stirred.

Of course, he didn't expect her to call since she should, by now, have her hands full to overflowing, literally: she was either at the airport or on her way, family, diaper and bottle bags in tow. His mental picture of the normally-unflappable Dr. Director-Possible, hauling her twins through an airport in a sitch not of her control, continued to bring a smile to CP's face as he stirred the gigantic cauldron of goodness.

"She just _thought_ I was a witch doctor," he laughed, continuing the stirring as a wry smile hung on his lips with each new stirring stroke. He chuckled inside: he was old enough to remember the 'Witch Doctor' song from its first playing, not the resurfaced version that showed up around the first post-Lowardian Halloween.

The knock at the door, entering the garage, surprised him, and he jabbed the huge ladle into the pot, pulled off his gloves placed them on the side table, and headed for the gate to the back door, grinning as he saw the arrivals through the slats: Steven Best, his wife Carlene, Sarah, Chip, Kim, Ron, Wade, Joss, and Wade's parents Ryan and Rachel.

"Welcome to the first Post-Invasion Juneteenth celebration," CP boomed as he opened the gate and reached across to open the door. "Leave your cares at the doorstep, and bring your appetites in," he laughed, greeting each of the guests as they walked past, packages in hand.

The conversations continued as he pointed them to the large prep tables already in his kitchen for them to unload and prep the food they had brought. He then excused himself and headed out of the kitchen into the backyard.

--

"Doctor Adams? What'cha cookin?"

CP smiled as he stirred the cauldron. "My mom's special Jambalaya, Joss," he replied, nodding as she handed him a tall glass of sweet tea. He removed a glove and took the glass in his hand, laughing as he moved the mint in the drink to the side with his tongue and drank deeply from the tall, slim glass. "Thank you, my dear," he nodded, placing the glass on the side table, next to the cauldron

"And, Joss, I've told you before: after fighting so well alongside me, you've more than earned the right to call me CP," he chided her, but she grinned.

"But, Doctor Adams, I respect my elders, and you are most definitely old," she giggled, and CP pushed the virtual knife into his heart. "Could I call you Doc, instead?"

"I would be honored," CP bowed, and Joss surprised him with an equally formal bow, but he laughed as she came up with her tongue stuck out at him when he added, "but, I'm not old: I'm middle-aged." The thought 'In a pig's eye' passed through hir head as he recalled Betty mentioning that she had reset the mandatory GJ retirement age at least 4 times. 'I'll never tell Joss that, though,' he smiled inside; 'at least it's now no longer 40,' he commented silently.

"Doc," she pulled up a folding chair and plopped into it, "Wade said I had to ask you why you were having a Juneteenth party."

"Did he tell you anything about the day, Joss?" he asked, continuing to stir.

"No, but I know that Colorado celebrates it, as do other states. I did a little research on the way over, so I know that there is a connection to the Civil War, but I didn't have enough time to read much further," she smiled.

"Too busy playing tonsil hockey, again?" CP asked, totally straight-faced.

"You know it," she replied quickly. "Ah hadn't seen him in weeks, and I wasn't going to waste any Wade time on the 'Net," she added with a wink. "He's been too busy with preparing and administering the finals, then supervising the final grading and setting the final grades for the semester for all of his students, so I've left him alone…well, most of the time," she laughed.

"Smart girl," he chuckled.

"Anyway," he began, "you know that black people, as slaves, were not considered full human beings under the original US Constitution: they were considered three-fifths of a person."

"That's ridiculous," she shot back in surprise. "Wade's more of a person that lots of people I know."

"Right or wrong, that's the way it was from 1781 until the fall of 1862," he replied, bending over and placing a small spoon he'd removed from his shirt pocket under the ladle he lifted from the pot, allowing both solids and liquids to fall back into the pot until he had the proper-sized sample. He then poured the contents gently over the spoon, blew on it a few times, and then tasted. He smiled, wiped the spoon off with the towel he draped over his shoulder (from the shelf under the side table), returned the spoon to his shirt pocket, and reached for two spice bowls that sat on the side.

"Even though the Emancipation Proclamation had been signed and issued on September 22, 1862, with an effective date of January 1, 1863, it had minimal immediate effect on most slaves' day-to-day lives, particularly in Texas, which was almost entirely under Confederate control," CP began as he slowly started to stir in the two bowls of spices into the large pot. "Juneteenth commemorates June 19, 1865, the day Union General Gordon Granger and 2,000 Federal troops arrived in Galveston, Texas, to take possession of the state and enforce the emancipation of its slaves.

"Legend has it," he continued while adding in the andouille sausage from the platter, piled and overflowing on the side table and repeating his tasting, "that, while standing on the balcony of Galveston's Ashton Villa, Granger stood and read aloud to the gathered crowd the contents of 'General Order No. 3'", and CP closed his eyes and began to recite the Order:

"'The people of Texas are informed that, in accordance with a proclamation from the Executive of the United States, all slaves are free. This involves an absolute equality of personal rights and rights of property between former masters and slaves, and the connection heretofore existing between them becomes that between employer and hired labor. The freedmen are advised to remain quietly at their present homes and work for wages. They are informed that they will not be allowed to collect at military posts and that they will not be supported in idleness either there or elsewhere.'"

"Wow, you memorized that?" Joss asked, surprised, and CP nodded.

"Yep: my grandfather and great-grandfather made certain that all of their kids and grandkids knew it by heart, so they'd understand what they had been given was a great gift and not to squander it," he smiled, remembering the look on his grandfather's face the first time he recited it at a Juneteenth celebration.

He reached for the bowl, filled with jumbo shrimp, and dumped the entire bowl into the cauldron. He then repeated the tasting process a third time turned off the heat, and turned on the fans that were positioned to cover the cauldron with cooling air designed to slow the cooking process after the heat was removed.

"So," Joss smiled, "the name was derived from a portmanteau of the words 'June' and 'nineteenth', correct?"

"Brains, and pretty, to boot," CP grinned, and Joss blushed. "I'm sure glad I'm a lot older: otherwise, I could get in a lot of trouble with you."

"That's sweet, Doc," Joss stood, walked over to him, and kissed his cheek.

"Hey!" came from the kitchen doorway. Wade was standing there, a bottle of Diet Root Beer in his hand, and a big grin on his face.

Joss blushed. "Wade, I-" but he cut her off.

"No worries, Joss: I trust you. I was just 'grinding your beans' a bit," he said, walking over to her and wrapping his arm around her waist, pulling her to him and stealing a kiss, then smiling at her with a strange, thoughtful look in his eye.

'Why do I feel like he's been spending too much time around Uncle James?' Joss thought just as Wade began to speak.

"You know, Joss: I just thought: I could have been killed for that kiss, even as recent as 40 years ago...but, what a way to go!" he laughed, and Joss looked at him, totally in shock.

"Nuh-uh!" she countered.

"It's true," Ryan Load replied, walking out of the kitchen, followed by his wife Rachel, and they all joined CP, Joss, and Wade at the cauldron. "A dear friend of mine, a young black man, was riding from Florida to New York State in the early spring, back in 1976, with a white girl in the car with him. Just before they got to the Florida/Georgia border, he pulled over, got in the back seat, told her to drive and not stop for anything, and covered himself up.

"It didn't work: she was pulled over by three law enforcement vehicles, with at least (as she remembered) eight-10 police in them. They pulled him from the car, got her license, copied her information, and told her that she and her family would be killed if they told anyone about this. They took him screaming, away in the car.

"She said she heard him screaming for a few minutes as they drove away, and then the sounds suddenly stopped.

"We never saw him again," Ryan said, sadly, and Joss stared, in shock and embarrassment.

Wade felt her tremble. "What's wrong?" he whispered.

"I can't believe that things like that happened. I'm so sorry," she said, turning her head away. Wade turned it back toward him and saw her tears.

"You didn't do it, Joss, and all whites are not like that, just as all Muslims are not jihadists, and all Christians don't hate Jews," he said, pulling her into him as she wept, unashamedly, for man's inhumanity to man.

She wasn't alone, as Rachel wept with her normally-strong husband, the silence of the events filled only with the soft sounds of tears.

"Former slaves in Galveston danced, sang, and rejoiced in the streets with unashamed glee," Ryan continued after he dried his eyes and laughed when CP, who had managed to stealthily open his 'drink cache' underneath his outdoor bench, handed him a cold bottle of Root Beer, "Juneteenth celebrations began in Texas the following year. Across many parts of Texas, freed people pooled their funds to purchase land specifically for their communities' increasingly large Juneteenth gatherings. Juneteenth celebrations are traditionally a wide range of festivities: parades, street fairs, cookouts, or park parties. They often include things like music and dancing, or even contests of physical strength and intellect."

"We used to recite the Gettysburg Address," Rachel added with a smile. "I still remember it by heart."

"We had big picnics: fried chicken, ice-cold bottles of pop, homemade potato salad, old-fashioned hand-cranked homemade ice cream, and ice-cold watermelon," Ryan laughed. "Some of those seed-spitting contests were legendary."

"But, what I loved the most," CP smiled as he tasted the Jambalaya one last time and nodded his approval, "was the music at the end."

"Amen to that," Rachel said.

"Momma would lead off with 'Swing Low, Sweet Chariot'," Ryan started, and CP smiled.

"I would listen to the jazz musicians, blaring out of the windows from the radios, all turned on high, while people danced in the streets," Stephen Best remembered, smiling.

"We would have a celebration at the local fort where some of the Buffalo Soldiers were based," Carlene Best smiled, remembering the men in the woolen uniforms in the blistering heat.

"Frank Vincent would sing 'Lift Ev'ry Voice and Sing.' When he finished, and there wasn't a dry eye in range, he would start singing 'Battle Hymn of the Republic. I used to get chills when others would join in with him in harmony in the 'Beauty of the Lillies' verse," CP smiled and Joss would have sworn she could hear the harmonies in the air.

"So, CP," Ron came from the kitchen, followed by Kim, shaking her head. She was shaking her head because Ron had a plate piled with half of a fried chicken, and he was chewing as he spoke. "If I get this right, this is a holiday to celebrate President Lincoln's release of the slaves in the middle of the Civil War, correct?"

"On the nose, Ron," CP replied. "Why do you ask?"

Chip and Sarah came out of the kitchen before Ron could answer, followed by Alexis and Jennifer, standing tentatively at the doorway.

"CP," Chip called, and CP turned his attention to him. "They heard that there was Jambalaya here, and they wanted to know if they could get a taste," Chip informed him as he stuck a thumb over his shoulder at the girls.

"Look at the pot, and you tell me," CP laughed, and Alex squeezed Jennifer's hand.

"Well, today could also be another holiday," Ron continued as if no one had said anything while stripping the last of the dark meat from the drumstick and flipping the clean bone into the large trash barrel CP had rolled into his back yard, "a celebration for all of us, regardless of race, creed, color, sexual orientation, or nation of origin, for our freedom from the attempted oppression of the Lowardians."

"Son, you never cease to amaze me," CP said as he smiled at Alexis and Jennifer and blew them each a kiss. They giggled and blew one back at him.

"We all had a common foe, and the Lowardians didn't care if you were black, white, red, green, het or not, male or female," Ron continued, putting one arm around Kim's waist while placing his plate on a table nearby with the other before the prodigal arm returned to join its family, firmly nestled with Kim. "They were going to kill us all, and we had to get rid of them, one way or another."

"You got it, duuuuuuuuude," Joss said, and everyone laughed as her poor surfer imitation.

Turning Ron to face her, Kim leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. "How is my chicken-eating hero, today?"

"Better, Kim: I think I'm finally getting it," Ron replied.

"I guess I'll keep you around, BFFBF," she smiled and planted a teeth-cleansing kiss on Ron.

"By the way, CP," Kim said when she finished her task (and Ron was still trying to catch up on his breathing, and Rufus had climbed out of his pocket and was fanning him to lower his temperature, all to the enjoyment of Wade and Joss), "that cauldron looks familiar," Kim said. "Where did you get it?"

"Pod top," he grinned. "I'm deep into recycling," he said, and the backyard cheers could be heard for blocks as the feast began.

--

The party was well underway, and the ladies had all gone gaga when Betty arrived with the twins, ooh-ing and ahh-ing over them all. CP pulled Slim aside and handed him a dark bottle with no label. "You're a gentleman, and a scholar, CP, and there's dang few of us left," he smiled, and he and CP toasted each other, bottle clicking on sweet tea glass. They had just finished round two of food when CP, once again, heard a knock at the door, entering the garage. He excused himself and headed to the back gate, stopping in shock when he saw who was there.

"Daddy, can I come in?" Celia Dane-Parsons spoke quietly, glancing up when she heard a noise on the other side of the gate and quickly looked back at the patterns in the ground under her feet. CP came out of the back yard to the driveway.

"What's wrong, Sar-Celia?" he asked.

"Nothing," she replied. "I heard you were having a party, and I wondered if I could come," she said, finally looking up at CP with the same look he's seen Kim give Ron: what Ron had called the 'dreaded Puppy-Dog Pout'.

'It must be a female trait: her mother used to do it to me, all the time,' flashed through his mind for an instance, but that thought quickly vanished when the more important thought hit his mind:

'My daughter wants to be with _me_.'

"Of course, Celia: you are always welcome," he smiled, and her fears began to subside. He started to turn to open the gate, but stopped. "What happened?"

"Well," she smiled quickly, but it disappeared quickly, "I had a full year to hear and see just what truly happened here and in other parts of the world from people that witnessed and lived it, first-hand. That, and a year in a dorm with Sarah," she chuckled, "and a full year with Dr. Load as a professor, sharing with us his work and stories, has given me reason to believe that I truly don't know everything. I need to start down my own, new path."

"'"Blaze your own trail,' in other words," he grinned, and Celia nodded vigorously.

"That's right! Isn't that the motto of _**Blaze**_**IT!** Search and Rescue? Where did you hear it?" she asked.

"I heard the story from the source: at the time, she was a 14-year-old girl, falling in love with a 13-year-old boy and dreaming big. He told her to 'Blaze her own trail,' and they started _**Blaze**_**IT! **after that."

"13? 14? Who?"

"Miss Jocelyn Possible, and Dr. Wade Load," he replied, and the look on her face told CP that she finally put the mental pieces of the puzzle together that had eluded her for the last 10 months.

Now, he turned and opened the gate. "Hey, everybody: look who I found," CP grinned as he ushered Celia into his backyard, and Sarah grinned broadly.

"Welcome, Celia," she smiled and extended a hand. Celia took it tentatively, smiling.

"'Mine eyes have seen the glory,'" Stephen began to sing, the babies became suddenly silent, the birds in the trees quieted their singing, and the gathering sat back to enjoy the company…and freedom.

--

Story complete.

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**A/N Afterward:**

Ryan's story, of his friends, is a real-life occurrence…and the seed-spitting contests are, too.

As of May 2009, 31 states and the District of Columbia have recognized Juneteenth as either a state holiday or state holiday observance; these include Alaska, Arkansas, California, Colorado, Connecticut, Delaware, Florida, Idaho, Illinois, Iowa, Kansas, Kentucky, Louisiana, Massachusetts, Michigan, Missouri, New Jersey, New Mexico, New York, North Carolina, Oklahoma, Oregon, Tennessee, Texas, Vermont, Virginia, Washington, and Wyoming.

We all need to remember: we all want the same goal, it's just the path we each want to take that may be different. If we all work together, there is nothing we can't do.

Thanks to ja, kt, and Star-Eva01 for wonderful beta work, both traditional and real-time. Their suggestions and thoughts help make this tale what it is, and are timely and appreciated, as always.

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Happy Juneteenth!

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2009.06.19

For Commander Argus...Calm seas, and prosperous voyages, my friend. May you dance with the angels, sir.

For readers who honor me by naming Joss Possible Best Minor Character from my JadeKimVerse: thank you, and I hope to live up to your honors.

Congratulations to the other winners, as well:

Repeat winners (from previous years) JAKT, MrDrP and Slyrr; and

First-time winners MaceEcam, Neo the Saiyan angel, NoobFish, Ran Hakubi, Star-Eva01, and whitem.

And, for someone special: you know how I feel about you. Congratulations, and I know that the E-Ring will never be the same after one week with you….

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